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Crouching, I slide those panties back up, letting the cotton soak up the semen. “I may not be able to claim you the way I want to, sister, but I can leave my mark in my own ways.”

‘…nanofluids are emerging as a game-changer in thermal applications, with their enhanced heat transfer capabilities offering significant benefits across a range of industries…’

Down below, Hunter wraps up his presentation, looking like he feels as satisfied with his work as I do with mine.

13

Arianette

If I thoughtthe scrutiny on me as I walked across campus this morning was intense, it only gets three times worse when I arrive at the performing arts building with a six-foot-three Baron hovering nearby.

I want to feel safe at the university; whoever kidnapped me is still out there, but they’re not foolish enough to come after me again with my Barons next to me and the Shadows hovering nearby, are they?

Turns out that wasn’t the problem anyway. The media, rushing at us the minute we got out of the truck, their loud voices and cameras flashing. And then the Duke.

Nick Bruin.

I’ve never seen a man that scary in my life, and the one walking next to me right now used a knife to carve into my chest.

I barely heard a word he said, more aware of the hard press of Damon’s body against mine, and the Duchess’ cool gaze.

Cloaked in Shadows, we went to the coffee cart and she’d spoken to me. I think. I was distracted by the prickle across myskin, the sharp zing in my nipples, the lingering feel of a hard cock against my ass. I couldn’t stop staring at the tattoo on her chest, the dark but delicate lines of the wings.

“It’s a death’s head moth,” she said. I was staring.

“Bears have teeth,” I said, snapping my jaw.

“Well, this Duchess has wings.”

I look up at the Maddox Performing Arts building, and breathe slowly, remembering the first time I walked into the building. I’d just turned eighteen and it was my first class outside of Strong Manor. Before college, my uncle brought the dance instructors in-house, just like all the other teachers, but a stipulation for the arrangement between him and the Baron King was that I must be enrolled in Forsyth University. Most classes I was able to take online, but dance? Those are required to be in person.

Those two things: the Baron King and the university requiring my attendance… those are the things that finally got me out of the Manor–even if it was just for a little while.

“I’ve never been in here,” Hunter says, following through the front doors. The building itself is gorgeous with big glass windows exposing the first two floors. The downstairs consists of a large lobby filled with student artwork, and an entrance to the theater. A curved staircase cuts through the mezzanine, leading visitors to the upper floor as well as private classrooms, dance studios, music rooms and galleries.

“The dressing room is down this hall,” I explain to Hunter. DK left for his calculus class after the presentation was over. I still feel his presence though, the sticky fluid he left on my behind has started to dry into a hard paste. “Do you want to wait for me out here?”

He hesitates. “I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight.”

“It’s a women’s dressing room.” Proving my point, two females with dance bags slung over their shoulders skirt past us and enter the swinging door. “It’s for women only.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he says decisively, jerking his head for me to follow as he walks away.

“Are we leaving?” I ask, panicking. “Please don’t make me miss the class–”

He stops as quickly as he’d started, jerking open the nearest door. The room is empty, dark until Hunter flips on the lights, illuminating the smooth hardwood floors. A barre stretches across the wall. A dance practice room.

“This’ll work.” He drags the one chair in the corner of the room away from the wall. Sitting, he focuses on his phone, only looking up when he notices I haven’t moved. “Go ahead,” he says, “change.”

I’ve never had a huge sense of autonomy–that hasn’t been a privilege in my life. I shared a room with the children my uncle took in, making privacy impossible. I’d changed among the other performers, I’d been tested, touched, and tracked. I’d beentaken.And all of this was before I came to the House of Night. But what I’ve experienced over the last few days has made it perfectly clear: my body isn’t my own.

Dropping my bag, I pull out the leotard and tights given to me by Graves this morning. I already know that any exercise will be torture. My nipples ache and the carving feels dry and itchy. I also know that no one cares. Slowly, I unbutton my cardigan and hang it over the barre, then lower the side zipper on my skirt and let it fall to the floor.

Hunter doesn’t look up as I undress, as I peel the crusty panties off my body. I’m more humiliated by the white stain in the crotch, the one I know was left there by the build up of my own desire.

“Did he make you come?” The question comes as I’m tugging the footless tights up and over my hips.

Our eyes meet in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.